Shattered
by pottermommy1118
Summary: When a child is lost, a heart is broken, never to be repaired. How does one live when part of their world stops spinning? "Most people dream of angels, I have held one in my arms." A special oneshot for Molly Weasley and every other mother of loss on this Mother's day.


**_I am posting this for Mother's Day._**

**_Specifically for Mother's of Loss, you aren't alone._**

**_I would like to warn you that this is about a mother's loss of her child._**

**_This is very straight forward, and not happy or fluffy_**

**_This is real. I used my own emotions from losing my two year old to write this._**

**_It was hard to write, it might be hard to read._**

**_I am not JKR _**

**SHATTERED**

It had been two days. Forty-eight hours since her world crashed around her. They had been back in their home for only three of those hours. There was a memorial service at the school this morning, they had attended Remus and Dora's internments shortly after and then they buried their Freddie. They buried her heart. She knew that there were six other pieces of her, realistically she knew that. But amidst the fog that had settled into her she couldn't feel them, she couldn't find the happiness that the other children should have brought her.

Happiness…Even the very thought of it eluded her. She had known happiness before, she thought she could remember being happy. She stared at the window that was all she noticed on the faded yellow of her bedroom wall. The tree rustled in the early evening breeze, she could hear the branches scratching the glass, it pulled her into her memories, memories where this sadness had never even been on the edges of her mind.

Ron was maybe three, he was playing in the floor of the sitting room with Charlie's old stuffed dragons while Percy read a storybook on the stairs. Ginny was napping in her travel cot in the corner. It was too quiet. The twins…where were the boys?

"Perce have you seen your brothers?" she asked rushing over to the steps.

"Which ones?" he asked in his sweet quiet voice.

He had always been the calmest of her kids, content to read and sit by himself.

"Freddie and Georgie."

"Uhm, I think they were playing in the kitchen last I saw them." He said, still completely absorbed in his book.

She looked back towards the kitchen, she knew they weren't there because she was just in there, they hadn't gone through the sitting room, Ron was calm, and they never resisted the chance torment him. Had they gone in there he would be fussing by now. Her mind worked fast as she thought through their possible location, outside, they had to be outside.

"Perce watch the babies." She said as she pushed the door open and started out into the yard.

She listened to the soft whistle of the summer air as it fluttered the leaves of the trees. It carried two small giggles upon it. She followed the sound of their laughter around the side of the house and to the overgrown garden. They were a sight to behold. Their once orangey red hair was caked in dirt and mud, their clothing was so dirty it was indistinguishable from the grubby skin. Fred appeared to have gotten hold of a particularly slow garden gnome and George was making work of stuffing him into what appeared to be a doll's dress.

"You gotsta get him's legs in there." Fred directed, always the leader, he was.

"I would if he would just stop kickin me. OWE that thing bit me!" George wailed, holding up an already red finger.

"Boys, what are you doing out here?" She asked, as if she hadn't already seen their tomfoolery for herself.

She watched as they tried to hide the gnome in question.

"We ain't doin nuthin." Fred said with an innocent grin, a grin that had yet to fool her.

"Yeah mum, why's you always think we's up to sumthin?" George had asked, his head cocked to the side, eyes wide and unblinking.

She chuckled inspite of herself. "Because you are always up to something, that's why. You better let that gnome go and get your bums in here so I can clean Georgie's hand before it gets infected."

Both little boys looked astounded that she would know what they had been doing.

"But we were makin him a doll for Ginny." Fred protested.

"Yes well the last thing your baby sister needs is a doll who bites. Now let it go and get in here so I can clean you both up. You look appalling."

As the memory faded, tears dripped from her eyes. Panic set in slightly, what if she forgot him, what if she forgot who and what he was? Eventually she would be forced to move on, but when she did, would she leave her beloved son behind? She couldn't bear the thought of living life without one of her children. Her heart was not whole without them all here. She was not complete. How did one move forward when a piece of her would forever remain broken and separated?

She remembered being apart from the boys for the first time when they had left for Hogwarts. The gleeful look on their faces until the train began to whistle its imminent departure. In that moment George had hopped up into a carriage and Fred had quickly ran back to her skirt and hugged her. She looked down on the most boisterous of her boys to find tears, unshed in his eyes.

"Son, you are going to miss the train." She prompted.

"I am going to miss you, and home so much." He said quietly so no one could hear.

"I will miss you too baby, but it is time to go, to learn and to grow."

"I love you mum, I love you forever and more than anything else, even quidditch." She had smiled at his declaration, and pulled him tightly in for a hug, before rushing him onto a slowly moving carriage.

"Write me every week, and stay out of trouble. No pranks on your brothers." She called out.

"So everyone else is ok then?" Fred cried just as they rounded the corner and were out of sight.

They had always been rowdy boys, they had always been the most animated of her brood. The house was going to be desperately quiet with only 9 year old Ron and 8 year old Ginny in it that year. She could remember making pots and pans fall purposely just so there was more noise.

Her, boys, her miracles, the twins she hadn't even been aware she was having.

She remembered waking up in St. Mungos, having been confused on why she was there, traditionally she had birthed all of her boys at home. She liked it that way, she was comfortable there. As the bright white light pierced her eyes, so different from the soft glow of the light at home, she squinted. She couldn't remember if there had been any residual pain or not. She could remember the confusion, where was she? Why was she there? The last thing she had remembered before waking was being on her bed, in her room, in labor with her baby. It felt like she had been in labor for days. And she would come to realize that she had been. The next emotion that washed over her was a wave of terror. Where was her baby? Her perfect beautiful, highly active child that she had talked to, and crooned to over the last months, where was the baby?

As she registered the light, she suddenly registered touch. She could feel the soft squeeze of a hand holding hers, and instantly knew her beloved's touch.

"Where…Where is the baby?" she croaked, her throat had been so dry. "What happened? Why are we? Where are we?"

His voice had been so gentle, but the joy emanating from it had been clear. His wife was awake and that was what mattered. "We are in St. Mungo's love. The baby, he got stuck, there was so much blood and he wasn't coming, you passed out. I brought you here. But you are alright. It's alright."

"The kids." She mumbled, thinking of the three boys at home. "How long have I been here?"

"Muriel is with them. We've been here three days. It is fine, all that matters that you are safe."

She opened her eyes all the way as the blurriness cleared and his handsome face leveled out in front of her. "He? It's a boy? I knew it. He was too active to be a girl, just like Charlie. No girl could ever be that active."

Arthur's face broke into a true grin. "Actually, it is two boys." He said, his cheeks dimpling with his jubilance.

"What…We…We…But I was only pregnant once." She stammered, still too drugged on potions to think straight.

Arthur laughed aloud. "I am pretty sure your mother was only pregnant once when she had Gideon and Fabian as well. But you see how wonderful those two have turned out."

"Twins…We had twins?" she stammered.

"Yes, and they are identical, I have yet to be able to figure out who I am holding. The medi witches charmed one of the bracelets blue and one green just so we knew who had been fed." He chuckled.

She tried to sit up and wobbled considerably.

"I want to see them. Right now." She demanded.

"I know, but you have to wait for your healer, he will be in and will make sure you are ready…"

"NO!" she interrupted. "I want to see my boys. Right now."

He knew his wife, this was not the time to argue. "Right, I will get right on that. Just, please don't try and get up. I will bring them if you promise to stay in that bed." He said, his voice faltering slightly at her glare. "Right, I'll just go get the boys." And he scurried from the room.

The next minutes had felt like an eternity before her door opened again and her husband came in pushing two clear plastic mobile cots. On the side of one was an F and on the other was a G.

"F and G?" she questioned. After all they had decided that a boy would be named Ronald.

"Well, yes. Your brothers declared that since you got the ability to have twins because they are twins that their names should begin with the same letters as their own." He said ruefully. "I don't think they quite understand that the gene was already there whether they had been born or not but there you have it."

She watched, none too patiently as he lifted the first tiny little baby from his comfortable place amidst rolled up green blankets.

"Baby F?" she questioned.

"If that is what you want. I wanted to wait for you to come around to pick a name. But I do think that we should pick something more than F and G, imagine having to wear nametags that said F and G their whole lives."

He handed her that first bundle, smaller than any baby she had yet given birth to, and smaller than any she would. She stared into his creamy face, he already had whisps of orangey red hair, just like the entire family. Tears filled her eyes as the second baby, baby G was placed in her other arm. Arthur had been right, they were identical, not a speck of difference, she was sure that she would figure out a difference soon though. A mother always knew which child was which afterall.

"What about George, I like George." She said looking at the second baby that had been given to her.

Arthur nodded his head as he sat by her side, perched on the edge of the bed at her elbow, looking into three of the most important faces in his world. "I like George. I was thinking, while you were asleep. I like the name Fred. What do you think?"

"Freddie? I do like it, it has a ring to it, Fred and George."

"Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred and George. Merlin what are we going to do with five little boys. Especially with a tenacious as Bill is. We are going to lose our hair." He mumbled.

She sighed contentedly. "Oh, now look at these two, they don't look like they could cause any more of a fuss than a butterfly landing on a rose bush. They are perfectly precious. I think Bill is our wild child, these two will be perfect angels. Won't you boys?

The sound of her voice roused both babies and they opened their eyes, they were the beautiful indistinct blue of a newborn babe. They stared silently into her face. She looked at them hungrily, never wanting to take her eyes off of them.

"Hello my boys. I am your mummy, and I will love you for my entire life."

As she remembered her first words to her sons the tears overcame her ability to think straight. Her memory faded and her shattered life came back in waves. The pain engulfed her every breath. How could she live through this? How could she ever begin to live without her son? Her very life was in that child, that boy, that man. He was so much a part of her that it felt as if she should have died as well. How did could one person live through this much pain? Was it even possible? The place where her heart used to be felt empty, it felt as if something was trying to claw its way out of her. It hurt, it physically hurt.

In her state she retreated back into her mind, taking her to a time when the boys were around seven years old. The house was chaotic, there was dinner cooking, and dishes from lunch still washing. Ronnie was chasing a frog through the hall, Percy was crying because George had torn his book, Charlie was begging to go out and fly alone, and Ginny was sitting at the table painting with finger paints, it was everywhere.

"Mum, mum, mummy." Came a small voice from her hip.

"George honey what do you need?' she asked glancing at the little dirty child in the striped shirt.

"I'm Fred." He pouted.

"Sorry Fred. What is it?" she asked distractedly looking into the hall as she had heard a crash and a yelp from Ron.

"Look, look what I found outside. It's a cemmipedeathingy." He said proudly.

"Yes love that's wonderful, and it is a centipede." She replied, now wiping paint from the floor.

"Look mummy, see all his legs. He is so cool." He continued on excitedly.

She cringed at the thought of the creature in her house and side stepped away, picking up Ginny and carrying her to the sink to wipe the paint from her, never sparing a glance for the wretched bug.

"That's lovely son, now take it outside. Percy, if you will stop wailing and bring it here I will fix it." She demanded, placing her hand on Fred's shoulder and moving him out of the way.

"See how he is all yellow and green. See his pointy things on his head."

"Yes, umhmmm. Ronald, get that frog out of my house! Georgie apologize to your brother and bring me that book."  
"Mum! Do you see?"

"Yes, I see." She said, frustrated with the havoc that surrounded her.

"Mummy." He persisted.

"Charlie, you know you are not allowed to fly without me or your father outside, I don't care if Bill does it he is twelve."

"MUM!"

"WHAT FRED!" she demanded finally looking at him properly, completely unnerved at this point.

"Did you look at my cemmipede? I love him. I want to keep him. Please?"

"No, you are not keeping that filthy bug in this house take it back to the garden and yes for the hundredth time, I saw the bloody centipede." She snapped, feeling guilty nearly instantly as the smile fell from his freckled face and his eyes welled with tears.

His lip poked out and he headed for the back door, cupping his hands adoringly to keep the thing from escaping. As he began to open the door he stopped and turned, meeting her gaze with tear filled eyes and a quivering chin.

"Well next time. You could look with your eyes for just a second." He said before marching out and leaving her speechless.

In that moment her seven year old had taught her a lifelong lesson. Sometimes, the second it takes to actually look is the second that matters. He hadn't needed ten minutes or even two. He only wanted her to take thirty seconds to look at a small thing, but something that had meant the world to him. Now, now that he was gone she wondered, even after learning that lesson, how many small things had she looked over? How many little moments were just too small for her to remember but were now the only pieces of him that she had left. How many seconds had she lost?

Everything in her cried out to be with the son she had lost. The pain of losing one, overwhelming the joy of having the one's left. It was amazing to her how clearly she could see the world, see the joy and sorrow, see the hurt and the love. But in those moments only the hurt and sorrow could truly be felt. For those you see are never as appealing as those you can't. When something is out of reach you desire it deeply. And when that something is your child that you are missing, it consumes your world. Leaving it in shadow and rain, even the sun shines less, the flowers lose their color and the air becomes hard to breathe. Her very heart ached for the son she was missing, the son she would never hold again.

As life and death crashed around her and she buried herself in her torment the world moved on. It began to live again. Day by day she began to fall into pattern. In the weeks that would follow her family would begin to smile and laugh, it would grow with the addition of Teddy to their ranks as they all but adopted him. Harry stayed, filling the place in her family that he had already held for so many years.

Months and years would pass, marriages would happen and grandchildren would be born. She found herself living and even somehow smiling and laughing again. But though it buried itself within her heart it never disappeared, becoming a piece of her that was normal, her new normal. Changing her for better and for worse it stayed, always looming on the outskirts of her thoughts and of her dreams. Days would come and nights would go. Sunny days would bring smiles and the next time the sun would shine it would inexplicably bring tears of remembrance from the part of her that was no more.

It would be many years before Ginny would sit on a bed in St. Mungo's holding a small premature baby, Albus Severus, staring at him in wonder at the fact that he had been fighting so hard, and that he was going home today.

She looked up at her mother who was packing the room in preparation for Harry to arrive back from filling out papers. "How did you do it mum?" she asked, looking back down at the miracle that was her second son.

"How did I do what love?" Molly asked, watching as her daughter became absorbed in the raven haired baby.

"How did you survive losing Fred? When they thought we were losing Al, I thought I was going to die. Not even thinking of Jamie gave me the will to stay. Just the thought of losing my son, it broke me. I didn't want to live." She admitted softly. "How were you strong enough to make it through that? How did you find the strength to live through it?"

The honesty in Ginny's question brought her up short, making her breath feel hitched and her eyes sting with the now familiar tears. Her chest recognized the ache that normally hid but often resurfaced when she least expected it. She found peace in the honesty in the reply she offered her daughter, all these years after losing her precious son.

"It was never strength, I wasn't ever given the choice to go with him or live without him. Strength implies carrying a burden that was too heavy willingly, that I found it within myself to do it. I never did, I never found a strength to go on without him, I have never been given the choice."


End file.
